Title: Insanity Would Be Better
Author: TigerTiger02
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: None.
Timeline: Anytime.
Summary: Basically just someone thinking on their mutation and the troubles it's caused them. One-Shot
Dedication: to Myself- just because insanity is thy name.
At first I thought I was just going insane. I kept hearing voices when no one was talking. It was a terribly odd sensation. Standing there, looking around myself to find no one was talking and yet I was hearing him or her speak. When I finally got the courage to go to a doctor the prognosis was much worse then I had ever foresaw.
"You are not going insane." They reassured me, and after a beat continued. "You are just a mutant. Telepathy. Believe it or not I have had several patients who have turned out to have some mind reading or psychic abilities of that sort."
I wondered if this was really all that much better then actually being insane. Now I would have time to slowly drive myself mad with the voices. I was not already insane; I would turn insane. But they reassured me; surely with some medication I would get better? Right? Maybe some mild sedatives would be all it took to make the voices stop.
They were wrong.
They never tell you about the ones who go insane. The ones who never gain control of their powers. The ones who drill holes in their skulls and puncture their eardrums to get the voices to stop. Or the ones who scratch out their eyes just so the visions will stop. No, they never speak of those mutants. No, it is always of the great ones who prevail over insanity and their powers. They always talk about the Great Professor Xavier. He is the one who I have heard the most about.
Sometimes I scream my throat raw trying to drown out the sounds of the voices with my own. Sometimes I bang my head against the wall in the hopes that by bashing my own brain in it will stop. Sometimes I try to deafen myself with loud music with the hope that if my ears cannot hear, then neither will my mind.
It never works.
The sedatives were never strong enough. So I took more and more. They even jacked me up on morphine in the hopes that it would give me relief. But none came and all that happened was I tripped and stumbled blindly about, too stoned to understand what was happening to me.
That was the first time I screamed for hours on end. I screamed until my voice cracked and broke. I screamed until my throat became raw and slick with my own blood. I screamed until the scream became silence. They took me away then.
And now here I sit. Wrapped up like a present in a neat jacket. Waiting. Waiting for what I know not. Perhaps it is my salvation I am awaiting. It will come in the Cloak of Death. Or in the shinging brilliance of a Cure. Perhaps I am waiting for my sanity to finally slip, and then I will fall over the edge of the precipice and tumble into an abyss I could never hope to climb out of. But it will come. Of that I am sure. So I sit here, rocking like a good crazy should, and wait.
A/N: this is just something I made up out of the blue. I dwell a lot on insanity and what it means to be insane so... yeah. This is also kind of a touchy subject for me. I've also have had many conversations on what it would be like to have certain powers and how having said power would affect my life.